


Unwanted Memory

by rainy_vibes



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Attempted Sexual Assault, Canon Compliant, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Rape/Non-con Elements, Surrender Benson, Trauma, Undercover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:00:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26050786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainy_vibes/pseuds/rainy_vibes
Summary: Takes place in 17x21, Intersecting Lives. A Corrections Officer raping inmates and former inmates resurfaces some memories that Olivia had long ago pushed away.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: When I saw the previews for this episode, I was so sure that they would bring up Sealview and the events of Undercover in some way, even if in passing. Everything seemed to parallel so closely, at least at first. But they didn’t mention it at all, so I thought it would be interesting to write it in, canon-compliant.

Rollins and Carisi had just stepped out to lunch to celebrate Carisi passing the bar exam. Olivia had offered to pay for a celebratory squad lunch, but since Fin already had lunch plans with his son, she pushed the offer back to a future date. Fin probably wouldn’t have minded missing out on the lunch, but she was  _ not _ about to play third-wheel to Amanda and Sonny, so she insisted on postponing. 

Olivia put away some of the case files strewn across her desk while contemplating her own lunch plans. She settled on popping into the bodega across the street, and had just made a grab for her coat when her phone rang. Caller ID showed Fin. She furrowed her brows in confusion. Why would he call her during his lunch with Ken?

“Fin?”

“Hey, Liv. I think we have a situation here. You got a moment?”

“Yeah, of course—what’s up?” She set down her coat and moved back to her desk, taking a seat. She grabbed a pen, prepared to scribble down notes.

“One of Ken’s clients at the half-way house is a former inmate. She just called and said one of her COs from Rikers tracked her down and raped her. Ken’s leaving now to meet up with her and take her to Bellevue.”

“Oh.” For a moment, she sat frozen as she processed the information Fin just threw at her. A Corrections Officer abusing his power and raping inmates… Far from an uncommon occurrence, unfortunately, but it was usually out of her jurisdiction, since Rikers was not covered by her precinct. In fact, it wasn’t a situation she had dealt with since...a while ago. She shook her head slightly and brought her attention back to her phone. “I’ll drive by the cafe and pick you up—we can go to Bellevue together and interview her.”

Fin provided Olivia with the cafe’s name, and she quickly wrote it down. She agreed to meet him in twenty minutes and hung up. As she gathered her purse and coat, she felt like she was moving robotically. Fin’s words just kept repeating in her mind.  _ A CO from Rikers who had raped one of the inmates. _ With her things gathered in her arms, she walked out of her office, but she still felt like her limbs were moving of their own accord. Olivia was glad that she had time during the car ride to process the upcoming case, and to pull herself together.

She made it to her car, and simply sat in the driver’s seat for a few moments. She finally allowed herself to confront what she remembered: her own week at Sealview Correctional Facility. It had been a long eight years since then, and she thought the psychological wound had long ago healed over.  _ This is absurd _ , she thought.  _ I’ve been through so much worse since then…  _

But she couldn’t control what memories her brain decided to dredge up from its depths. She may have been assaulted twice since then, been held hostage a few more times, adopted a child, and been in several relationships. In the grand scheme of her life, one brief undercover experience from  _ eight years ago _ should mean nothing to her. And yet, it all came flooding back now. 

No, she had never forgotten it, not really. Even when Lewis had her for four days, and when she went to the granary to save Amelia, some part of her brain continually drew comparisons between the two men and their actions. Two different men, committing very different assaults, but both affecting her life irrevocably. When Lewis threw her down on the mattress at the beach house, her first instinctive thought had been remembering the similar bounce of the mattress in the Sealview basement. Having her hands cuffed to the car door handle, and later to the iron bed frame above her head, felt unbearably similar to when her hands were cuffed to the bars on the locked basement door. Lewis’s violent groping from behind her in the granary, erection pressed against her, felt too similar to Harris pushing her into the basement wall. Both men were power-hungry, manipulative, physically imposing. Both ultimately overpowered her. 

Olivia took a few deep breaths, attempting to clear her mind. This new victim—Ken’s client—did not need someone caught up in their own trauma. So, Olivia resolved to do what she does best: compartmentalize. Maybe she’d schedule a therapy session with Dr. Lindstrom this week, but until then, she needed to be fully present for the victim. 

With one final exhale, she shifted the car into drive.

Within a few minutes, she saw Fin standing on the sidewalk corner by the cafe, and she pulled up beside him. He climbed into the car and shut the door behind him. 

“Thanks for swinging by, Liv.”

“Of course. I appreciate you calling me about this case as soon as Ken mentioned it.” She pulled back into traffic and headed toward the hospital. She became hyperaware of how hard she was trying to keep her face impassive. 

“He just called me a few minutes ago and said he picked up the vic—Charisse McCabe—and they’re almost to Bellevue.”

“Okay, good. Hopefully she’ll agree to do a rape kit and we can nail the bastard.” She kept her gaze glued to the road. “Did Ken mention any other details?”

Fin paused for a second, and she could tell from her peripheral vision that he hazarded a glance at her.  _ Did he already see the connection, too? Or was her increasing anxiety, despite her best efforts, creeping to the surface too clearly? _ “He didn’t have much info, though he got the guy’s name from Charisse. CO Gary Munson. Sounds like this wasn’t the first time he assaulted her. And it’s happened both in and out of prison.”

Olivia drew her lips together in a thin line. “It’ll be a hard case to prove—CO versus former inmate. Did she report it to anyone before now?” 

“Doesn’t seem like it. Plus, you know how prisons are—complaints don’t usually get investigated.” 

She saw Fin glance at her again, and she involuntarily stiffened. She knew he was probably speaking more generally, but with Sealview memories freshly pumping through her mind, she couldn’t help but hear the subtext.  _ Her own assault was ignored, deemed useless to pursue. She was a cop against a CO, and he still got away with what he did to her in that basement. _ And Fin’s next question confirmed her assumption.

“You okay?” Gentle, but so straightforward. So classically Fin. He really didn’t get enough credit for how perceptive he was. After all, he was the only one that noticed her spiralling after Sealview. She never felt that she properly thanked him for his concern. But for now, she wished he had been less observant; she really was not ready to go down that path yet, especially before interviewing a victim who would no doubt test Olivia’s fragile barricades. So her best option seemed to pull out ol’ reliable fake-it-till-you-make-it and change the subject.

With a small smile, her eyes never leaving the road, she responded simply, “Yeah, I’m fine. How long has Ken been working with Charisse?”

Fin looked over at her for a few seconds, as if deciding whether or not to believe her. He seemed skeptical, but eventually he gave a small nod to acknowledge that he wouldn’t pry any further. For the rest of the ride, Olivia inquired more about Ken’s relationship with Charisse and experience at the half-way house. Once the extent of Fin’s knowledge was shared, they sat in companionable silence until they soon arrived at Bellevue Hospital.

After parking and flashing their badges at the front desk to find out where Charisse’s room was, they made their way through the lobby. They spotted Ken sitting across the waiting room, elbows on his knees as he stared blankly at the ground. Fin called out his name, drawing Ken’s attention as he got to his feet and met the pair in the center of the room.

“Dad, Olivia. Thanks for coming out here.” Ken played with his hands, as if at a loss. He ran a hand over his head and continued. “I let Charisse know that you would be coming, and she seemed willing to talk to you.”

“Thanks, Ken. We appreciate it. We can take it from here.” Fin clapped Ken on the shoulder as Ken nodded. 

“Well, I told Charisse I’d wait here for her, to give her a ride back home after,” Ken said with a sad smile, and sat back down. 

Olivia and Fin nodded and walked past him towards Charisse’s room. 

“He’s a good kid, Fin. You should be proud.” 

She saw Fin crack a smile, his eyes lighting up. “I am. And...he’s going to be a great dad soon, too.” Olivia’s head perked up as she looked wide-eyed at Fin, a grin beginning to break as she processed what he said. “He announced during our lunch that he and Alejandro found a surrogate. I’m gonna be a grandpa.”

The grin was full now, and Olivia let out a chuckle. “Wow, Grandpa Fin!” Fin gave a playful grimace at that, but his excitement was plain to see. “That’s amazing! Congratulations.”

They reached Charisse’s room then, and the smiles dropped from their faces as they prepared to meet another vulnerable victim. Olivia gave a light knock on the door, heard a quiet “Come in” from the other side, and walked in with Fin right behind her.

“Hi Charisse, I’m Lieutenant Benson, and this is Detective Tutola. We’re from the Special Victims Unit.”

Charisse was seated on a hospital bed, wrapped in hospital scrubs that seemed too big on her. She chewed on her lip when she watched them approach. Looking up at Fin, she asked, “You’re Ken’s dad?”

“Yeah, I am. He called us because he thought we could help you. Could you tell us what happened?” Fin situated himself on the other side of Charisse’s bed, while Olivia stood in front of her.

Charisse took in a deep breath, staring resolutely ahead at the wall, avoiding either pair of eyes watching her. “Gary Munson was a CO when I was in Rikers. He was assigned to my block, so I saw him around pretty often. And then I kept seeing him around after I got out…” Olivia was closest to her side of the bed, so Charisse glanced up at Olivia, before shifting her eyes back ahead and continuing. “Until today, Gary would just...make me go down on him...But I said I didn’t want to do that anymore. I was back with my boyfriend.”

He made her go down on him…  _ God, Olivia, pull yourself together—focus on Charisse! _

Olivia brought herself slowly down to the chair in front of Charisse, pulling herself out of her mind and back to the moment, to Charisse. She schooled her expression, hoping she looked deep in concentration and concern, rather than battling an inner voice. Charisse continued.

“He got mad. He hit me. And then he raped me.”

“How many times did this happen?” Olivia asked gently.

Charisse lightly shrugged and shook her head dismissively, still avoiding eye contact. “I don’t keep count. At least once a week since I got out.” She chuckled dryly and looked at Olivia. “I’m on his route.” Glancing away again, she admitted, “I thought it was bad enough when I was inside…”

“Did he assault you in Rikers?” Fin asked, with a furrowed brow. Olivia was grateful that Fin had asked a question, because her own chest felt inexplicably heavy.

“He never...hurt me,” she responded with a slight shake of her head. Though Fin had asked the question, she seemed most comfortable directing her answers to Olivia, so she glanced back at Olivia while she continued. “But when he’d take me back from a visit, he’d...make a stop in the chapel.”

He took her to an isolated location, just the two of them… Olivia looked pointedly at Fin, as he voiced her own thought aloud. “There’s no cameras there.”

_ There were no cameras  _ there _ either... Stop, focus! _

With bitterness, Charisse nodded and responded simply, “He knows what he’s doing.” The way the three of them were positioned—with Fin on the other side of Charisse’s bed, while Charisse faced Olivia—Olivia and Fin had a clear view of each other. Fin met Olivia’s eyes over Charisse’s shoulder. He briefly brought his lips together into a dry, knowing line, before looking back to Charisse. Olivia did the same, but meeting Fin’s eyes had disoriented her. It felt like he could read the thoughts coursing through her mind. She blinked several times to ground herself and control her expression as Charisse continued.

“He’d say, ‘You do me a favor. I do you one.”

“Meaning?” Olivia found her voice. 

“Meaning I get to see my kids.” Emotion filled Charisse’s voice thickly. “Don’t get strip-searched, thrown into solitary. Don’t get my teeth knocked in.” 

Olivia sighed quietly in disgust and continued gently, “Did you report this?”

Confusion and anger filled Charisse’s eyes. “In Rikers?” She squinted at Olivia, her voice rising slightly. “The COs and the gangs run that place. Every female inmate in there  _ knows _ that.”

Olivia kept her expression blank as she shifted uncomfortably in her chair and looked up at Fin again, but he was concentrated on Charisse. To Olivia, Charisse’s description sounded too familiar—and she was sure that Fin was hearing the familiarity, too.  _ Stop! How could she work on this case if she couldn’t stop thinking about herself? Focus!  _ As Charisse kept speaking, Olivia brought her gaze back to her.

“Every time he’d do me, he’d say, ‘Cry all you want. But you’re just a broke, black crack whore. Who’s gonna believe you?’” She punctuated her words with hatred, her eyes resentful.

“I do, Charisse,” Olivia responded with conviction, leaning forward towards the young woman in front of her. Everything about Charisse’s story was credible—but Olivia needed Charisse to believe that, or else Charisse may recant in fear, and they’d never be able to prove a case against this power-hungry, corrupt CO. Olivia would  _ not _ let that happen.

However, Charisse just chuckled bitterly again, and Olivia could see her retreating inside herself. “Uh huh...” Charisse sighed and wiped her eyes, turning towards Fin now. “I never should have called Ken. I...I was just messed up.”

She turned back to Olivia, eyes dull, and she hurt Olivia’s heart with her next words. “Don’t worry. I know this doesn’t go anywhere.”

Olivia couldn’t help but remember a similar young woman, Ashley Tyler. Much too young to be facing the world’s horrors. Turned understandably bitter by the number of times she’d been let down by the system and society. Similarly adamant that there wasn’t any use in going after a CO. Olivia made to speak, but she wasn’t sure what to say as her mouth opened and closed once more. She felt overwhelmed by the whole situation—she wanted to offer words of hope to Charisse, but it felt like the wall she had carefully crafted around her eight-year-old trauma was starting to crumble down. Thankfully, Fin stepped in.

“We’ll do everything we can to bring Munson down. We promise.” He handed Charisse one of his business cards. She hesitantly took it from him and softly nodded. “Call me if you need anything, or remember anything else.” 

A nurse walked in, heading towards Charisse’s bed. Fin looked down at Olivia, who had a blank expression on her face but felt tumultuous inside. He walked over and set a hand lightly on her shoulder, bringing her out of her thoughts and spurring her to join him and leave Charisse to the nurse. As they stepped out into the hallway outside the room, she felt Fin’s eyes on hers. He’d noticed she was acting strangely.

“Liv?”

She cleared her throat and blinked, staring ahead as they walked back to the waiting room. “Yeah?”

Fin hesitated, as if he hadn’t actually decided what to say when he had called her name. Finally, he seemed to settle on something. “You know you can talk to me, right? I know it’s been a while since we’ve had a heart-to-heart”—the corner of his lip turned up—“but I’m here for you.”

There it was—a practically explicit acknowledgement that this case brought back memories for both of them. After all, Fin’s time at Sealview had hardly been a walk in the park. And, lest she forget, he practically witnessed Harris’s assault first-hand when he managed to unlock the basement door and rush in, saving her from even worse circumstances. It was a shared trauma, and it was comforting to know that Fin was willing to support her, even all these years later. Olivia returned his half-smile. “Thanks, Fin. I appreciate it.” 

They reached the waiting room, where Ken was still seated. Fin spoke with him briefly, then they waved good-bye, and together Fin and Olivia went back to start the drive to the precinct. Fin called Barba, letting him know that the squad might be targeting a corrections officer. Barba had a meeting with the DA that afternoon, so they planned instead to meet the next morning and discuss the case details at his office.

Olivia was grateful for the brief delay—this case had been thrown on her plate so suddenly and unexpectedly, and she needed some time to process her own thoughts before she got too caught up in it. Lindstrom had always warned her of getting too emotionally attached to her work, but she hadn’t ever taken that caution seriously. Her emotional commitment to her job was precisely what made her good at her job, after all. But now, she finally thought she understood what he had been getting at. Allowing herself some time to cleanly divide her personal emotions and her work on Charisse’s case would probably be helpful. Assuming that was even possible to do.

She drove herself and Fin back to the office. By the time they arrived, the work day was nearly done. Olivia finished up some paperwork and returned a few phone calls, while Fin debriefed Carisi, Rollins and Dodds on the situation, before everyone called it a day and left. Olivia called Lucy to let her know that she’d be home soon. Spending time with Noah was enough to keep her mind off the case temporarily. When she got home, she enjoyed a lovely dinner of macaroni and cheese with her son, got him cleaned up and into pajamas, read him a bedtime story, and tucked him in for the night. 

After closing his bedroom door, Olivia walked directly into the kitchen and poured herself a tall glass of merlot. Finally, sipping her wine, curled up on the couch, she took a deep breath. At last alone, she had some time and some space to think. 

And so she did.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for your kind responses! I’m glad to see that I wasn’t alone in seeing this connection. So I’m excited to write some more! If you haven’t seen the episodes discussed here, they are Season 11x9, Perverted, and Season 13x8, Educated Guess, aside from the evident Harris and Lewis episodes.

How do you begin to arrange your thoughts when the experiences that created those thoughts are inherently chaotic? As Olivia drained her wine glass, her disorganized brain jumped all around, and she didn’t try to reign it in. 

The four days with Lewis, and the subsequent day at the granary, had been the worst experiences of Olivia’s life. There was no doubt about that. It’s hard to remember that there was a time when her worst experience was anything else.

But Lewis wound up tied together with Harris in that part of her brain that processes trauma. Her subconscious had compared much of what Lewis did with what Harris had done first. Therapy had helped her process the torture that Lewis put her through, but she hadn’t ever brought up Harris with Lindstrom. After all, Lewis had put her through an entirely different realm of hell. Comparatively, it never felt like Harris had to be brought up, especially since Olivia had already been to a therapist eight years ago when it happened. It took time, but she thought she had recovered.

In fact, she only spoke about Harris—indirectly, of course—twice since finishing the last therapy session seven years ago. 

First, when Ed Tucker had interrogated her over the murder of biker Clyde Vandyne. He attempted to twist together a scenario where Clyde tried to attack Olivia and she snapped, using his discovery that she had been seeing a therapist the year prior as ammunition against her. 

“ _Why’d you see a psychiatrist last year?” “Excuse me?”_ _“Rumor has it, it was for post-traumatic stress.” “...I got help for an issue that I was having.” “I was just outside with your partner; he told me all about it.” “You’re lying.”_

Ha! As if Olivia would ever have told Elliot what had happened at Sealview. Hell, if she had it her way, Fin wouldn’t know either. But she couldn’t actually wish that to be true, because she was too grateful that Fin arrived in time to save her.

Tucker had continued his interrogation, attempting to trigger an emotional reaction or a confession. He crafted a hypothetical situation, making Olivia grow more and more uncomfortable by the second.

_ “You deal with an awful lot of rapists on this job...Did one of them attack you, overpower you?” “It has nothing to do with this case.” “It does if you had a flashback. People with PTSD get them all the time.” _

It had been over a year since Sealview at that point, and several months since her last therapy session. She knew she wouldn’t ever forget what had happened, but she had accepted the event, and had her PTSD treated by that point. And yet, Tucker hypothesizing a scenario, and getting close to  _ a  _ truth (though certainly not  _ the  _ truth—she had never even met Clyde) was enough to send her mind spiralling back once again, her discomfort transitioning to outright anxiety and anger.

_ “Is that what happened to you?” “Absolutely not.” “Clyde attacked you in an alley and it triggered a flashback?” “You’re wrong.” “You were right back in that position of complete helplessness. He had his hands all over you, he was taking your clothes off—” “No.” “—he was going to violate you again and you couldn’t let it happen.” “I  _ NEVER _ let that happen.” _

It was true—technically, she hadn’t. She had been fully dressed when Harris cornered her in the back of that basement, handcuffed to the door while he stroked himself. And Fin had come rushing in before a definitive “violation” took place. But regardless, Tucker painting such a vivid picture had brought back some painful emotions. And, Tucker followed up that conversation by arresting her on the spot, and she spent the day in jail— _ that _ certainly didn’t help push back memories of the last time she was behind bars.

_ “They’ll document all wounds during your strip search at intake. _ ”

God, what a nightmare of a situation that case was. When she was finally cleared of the charges, she decided to schedule a follow-up therapy session. It helped ground her once more, and thankfully, since then, she hadn’t really faced any triggers. Tucker had later apologized for pushing her so hard, but even now as his girlfriend, she had never admitted to him how near accurate he had been. After all, she had started to feel normal—or as normal as Olivia Benson could feel. 

In fact, the second and final time she had brought Harris up, it was to help her empathize with a victim. She had done this a couple of times before, more immediately after Sealview, to identify with and empathize with other victims—but this was the only time she had done so without the safety net of therapy to fall back on. This time, she related her own experience to help Gia understand that illegally obtaining a gun would not help her feel safer.

_ “Gia, we know that you’re angry and afraid, but a gun? That’s not the answer.” “Says the woman who carries one on her hip.” “Yeah. And bad things have happened to me. I’ve been stabbed...I’ve been assaulted. And my gun didn’t save me.” _

She hadn’t intended to mention the experience, but she wanted to prove her point. And, it inadvertently helped her form a bond with Rollins. Amanda had questioned Olivia after they left Gia’s room about those comments, and had mentioned her own assault in passing (which Olivia wouldn’t know the details of until three years later). Exchanging these bits of themselves had felt so human, and it felt good to know she wasn’t alone—especially since she had felt so alone around that time, after Elliot had up and left without a word. In any case, she had unknowingly reached a point where bringing up what had happened with Harris did not send her mind back to the basement. 

Then, everything with Lewis happened. It was so public, too—a media circus publicizing her kidnapping and eventual safety, documenting the complicated trial and her later admission of perjury. Because it was all so public, she was forced to talk about what had happened with Lewis. Her colleagues would periodically check up on her mental state, or she’d notice their watchful glances. She lived with Brian at the time, too, and she couldn’t hide her automatic reactions from him—wincing whenever the gas stove was clicked on, jumping when he approached her from behind, gasping awake from recurrent nightmares. It’s harder to compartmentalize when it seems like everyone knows what happened to you, and jumps to conclusions. In other words, William Lewis had lived at the front of her mind for a long time, and Lowell Harris was able to lurk in the shadows, unacknowledged. 

Until today.

Olivia shifted on the couch, resting her elbows on her knees, with her head in her hands.  _ She had let two different men overpower her. What kind of cop lets that happen? What was wrong with her? Didn’t she learn her lesson the first time around? _

The rational side of her brain knew she was being too hard on herself, that anyone can be victimized and it would never reflect on them as a person. She would never say these words to one of her victims, so she shouldn’t say them to herself. But the wine was quickly drowning out that rational voice.

_ Even Lewis could tell that something had happened to her. What was it that he said at the beach house? “I can always smell a victim.”  _

The irrational part of her brain was growing louder, and she hated herself for letting the absurd thoughts through, but she couldn’t reign them in. She wondered how Lewis would have felt, knowing that it wasn’t him who had derailed her during the case today, but a different man.  _ Would he be jealous, that he hadn’t “altered the trajectory” of her life enough to make her forget the rest of her past? Or would he delight in her current distress, in her mind’s self-destruction?  _ She guessed the latter. She finished her glass of wine and poured herself another.

As bad as Lewis was, there was something about the visceral fear she felt when she was with Harris that was permanently etched into her mind. Lewis had been a sadist, focused on pain and psychological torment. Over the four days, she had certainly been scared, but she was also so out of it from the vodka and pills. It added a layer of hazy film over her memories of the events. And at the granary, it had all been one psychological game to Lewis. When he gave her the ultimatum—her or Amerlia—she knew that he just wanted to humiliate her further, and she took the upper hand by not resisting. Russian roulette had terrified her more than anything else, but it was fear of death rather than of Lewis.

Harris, however, had truly actually reminded her of her own weakness. She had broken free and beaten the shit out of Lewis at the beach house, effectively saving herself. And she had given herself up to Lewis at the granary, by her own choice (if you could call an ultimatum at gunpoint a choice). But Harris, an ordinary man, had overpowered her. She had fought like hell—elbowing him, running as far as she could in the claustrophobic and dingy basement, screaming for anyone to help her—and none of it had mattered. She ended up on the dirty floor, handcuffed to the window bars on the locked door, while Harris, pants pulled down, threatened her: _ “Bite me and you’re dead.” _ She tried to wrench herself away, but she had nowhere to go as he physically twisted her head back towards his crotch. Sobs had wracked her body, and she knew with certainty that she wouldn’t be able to get away. He was going to assault her. She had accepted her fate. 

Only by a miracle was she saved by Fin sprinting in, just in time. That was what had damaged her so severely—that she had to rely on someone else to save her, that she had been entirely unable to do anything to save herself. 

That perceived weakness had been the primary focus of her therapy sessions, once she finally admitted that she needed professional help. She accepted that it wasn’t her fault, and there was nothing she could have done. But now, she was faced with her own weakness again.  _ How could she be an SVU lieutenant if she was left in emotional shambles when a victim merely described her assault?  _ The similarities between Charisse’s story and Olivia’s undercover experience had been uncanny, though, down to Gary Munson’s preferred sexual act. 

Finally, a voice that sounded somewhat like Lindstrom pushed its way through her mind, quieting the irrational thoughts.  _ It wasn’t your fault then, and you are not weak for having experienced that assault. If you can’t separate your emotions from this case, then try to use your feelings productively. You know better than anyone how corrupt COs can be—channel that understanding into your work on this case. Your assault is not Charisse’s assault, and Charisse needs your help now. _

Olivia paused to process that idea. Whether or not it was advice that real-Lindstrom would actually have given her, it resonated with her. Just as she had for Ashley Tyler back in 2008, she could use her experience to fuel her work in taking this basard down. 

Sure, she was distraught, but she was also  _ angry _ .  _ Angry _ that a man would use his position to overpower women continually and systemically.  _ Angry  _ that cases like this seemed to fall through the cracks, especially at Rikers.  _ Angry  _ that Lowell Harris had never paid for what he did to her. 

Olivia could work with anger. She could pursue justice for Charisse using that as a driving factor. Having come to that conclusion, she felt a strange sense of relief.  _ Maybe she can be a good lieutenant after all. _

With a resolve to carry her anger with her to the meeting with Barba in the morning, she finished her glass of wine, stood up, and headed to bed for what would invariably be a fitful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This was a bit all over the place, but I feel like it would reflect Olivia’s own jumbled thoughts. Next chapter picks up with the scene where Olivia, Fin, Mike and Barba discuss the case. Feel free to suggest any additional scenes you’d like to see!

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I’ve always appreciated the relationship between Fin and Olivia—there’s a deep care for each other that has withstood all their years, and I feel like it really started after Sealview. I think I might continue with this story, maybe going through Olivia’s thoughts, and rewriting the scene in Barba’s office with the Sealview subtext, and maybe even including one-on-one conversations between Liv and Fin or Liv and Barba. Thoughts?


End file.
